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His eyes widened. They were going to freeze off the parts of their bodies they liked to shake.
Then they were in motion.
Coach jerked his thumb over his shoulder as if the twenty-three men in front of him were unaware of the barely dressed women behind him. “Who’s in charge of scheduling? You know how I feel about people on the ice on my time.”
Kiernan nodded rapidly, his gaze glued to the dancers. “We legit need to know more.”
“You know what I mean, focus, men. Hockey. Puck. Rink.” Ronan turned to Mikah. “You’ve got an in with the Amvehls. What do you know?”
Mikah sliced his gloved hand in front of his chest. “I’m not doing this, I’m not the go-between, and you don’t want me to be.”
Coach gave Mikah a nod, freeing him from the conversation. “You’re excused, Czerski.”
Mikah skated off to the locker room.
Fair play, Mikah was dating Piper Amvehl. The Amvehls and the Applebaums could hash out ownership privately. Otherwise, Mikah was stuck in the middle like an expensive wishbone with a multi-million-dollar contract. Front office was messing with more than just his game.
Saxon’s eyes never left the other end of the rink. “I saw the email about Willow’s promotion to head of dancers’ activities. I don’t even know what that is. Do we need to get her a congrats gift? Should I go ask?”
Kiernan put his gloved fists on his hips and spared a glance at the rookie. “Dude, Willow’s partnered up with Dodo. For shits and giggles, let’s say you do get her a gift. What’s that say if the new owners are the Amvehls? Sorry, Dahlia, your ex dumped you for Willow, but I bought Willow a three-quart Tupperware dish with my bonus, can I get another bonus next year?”
“Shit,” one of the guys in the back said.
Yep, succinct and captured exactly where they stood, they needed to keep their skates out of this.
Saxon took off his helmet as if he needed more air. “I didn’t get Willow any kind of dish. Is that what you guys are getting? Just saying, let me go in on it.”
Ronan drew in a deep breath. The men needed him to lead. “This will get worked out. We stick to the ice and leave the Applebaum-Amvehl mess to the courts.”
He could feel the guy’s tension ease. He’d given them good captain-worthy advice. He was thankful when he got it right.
“No, man, I can’t take it.” Saxon clapped his gloves together. “If ownership changes, will we keep the same positions? I hate change. Is she going to pick us off, or let us make our mark?”
“I just need time,” Havard grumped, his Norwegian accent making the words difficult to understand. “This had to have happened during my slump?”
See, that’s where this kind of disruption went off the rails. One missed puck had become a slump in Havard’s mind. His superstitious attitude could be catching and derail their progress. Ronan tensed, knowing he had to put this down, now.
“I tried speaking with Calista the last time she was at practice,” Kiernan said. “She blew me off for class.” He frowned. “Chicks never blow me off.” He turned to Liam. “Is this how you feel all the time?”
Liam sniffed the air. “They can smell the purity pledge on you.”
“They do not.” Kiernan stuck his nose in his own armpit. “I didn’t swear to the pledge, bro. I said, I was thinking about taking it. Huge difference.”
Saxon’s hazel gaze darted left then right, almost as fast as Liam’s tracked the room. “We need answers, man.”
“You know we’re not getting answers from those women. The Amvehls have left us nothing but a mess. I don’t even want to speculate what they’re up to.” Jerry arched his eyebrows at Coach. “Am I released, Coach?”
Coach dismissed him with a short nod.
Kiernan switched his gaze to him, his captain. “If only there was some way to know who Calista would talk to.”
“Like a sign,” Liam said, egging Kiernan on. Liam circled his hand in front of his chest. “Some sort of symbol.”
“Too obscure.” Kiernan pointed to the back of Ronan’s shoulders. “Spelling out a name would make it so much clearer.”
Several guys snickered at their antics. They could see from here that Calista wore a jersey with Ronan’s number on it, the giant twenty-two was hard to miss. The men looked at him expectantly.
Calista probably wore his jersey to curry favor off the back of Ronan’s reputation. Her manipulative move didn’t seem to disturb his teammates the way it did him, but not everyone saw the whole game in front of them. Some guys excelled at one power move at a time. Calista wearing Ronan’s jersey was causing him no small amount of hassle. Next, they’d be accusing him of receiving favoritism. Had that occurred to her?
No hope for it, Calista had strung him up, though, seriously, as long as management did their thing, and kept the players out of the drama, all would be good. “Front office is going to do what they’re going to do. We stay clear, keep our focus on the ice, and on the game.”
“Come on, Captain.” Saxon skated closer. “Please, man, find out something for us.”
Crap.
Calista had left him no out. Even with the distraction of the dancers, the guys were focused on ownership issues.
Ronan schooled his face and pulled on a pleasant expression, not letting them know this task got to him. He’d take care of their worries for them, he had no choice. It was his job.
He skated over to Calista.
